(All of us in a room)
I held off a long time before making a blog for myself. I had my reasons. I had, rather, my reason: I was afraid of blogs, and, in a broader sense, afraid of a culture that suggests that an admirable form of expression is one that allows someone like me, someone who needs twelve heaping wallops of humility and more than a dash of selfless thought, to start the first four sentences of his admirable expression with a personal pronoun, then to line up his Is next to a pile of music he likes, comics he likes, people he likes, web sites he likes... So I was afraid of it, and still am, just like I'm afraid of Facebook and Last.fm and all the rest, because I already start all my prayers, like my blog posts, with I, and that's more than far enough down that road.
I have a whole rant about that, a rant that makes me feel superior to other people and therefore which I guiltily like to give with little or no provocation, but I won't give it here because a) Well, I won't list the reasons; the irony hangs heavy as it is. I won't rant about that because that is not the point of this post, it is merely the initiator.
So, skipping back to the end of the first sentence (see paragraph 1,) let's just insert the following and forget that little transpiration that, you know, transpired. Er, hem.
When I started this ig/noble experiment, what had tipped me over the edge from nay to yay was reading other people's blogs that were genuinely beneficial. Okay, I admit - it was only one blog, but it was enough. Being therefore convinced that if one stuck to content sure to delight and amuse, or possibly instruct, that one could at least avoid the soul-diffusing perils of punting his ego into a wallless internet, I embarked with the intention of keeping my segoul as contained as contained as possible. I would tell stories, share my thoughts, but only so far as other people might reasonably be expected to be interested in, and I would always be more eager to share about someone else than about myself.
Likely. Why do I write in this ridiculous prose?
So I've done better and I've done worse, and frequently, especially over the last couple of years, I've done even better by not doing at all, but I would like to get back a bit of my original intention if possible, and also to capture a bit of something that I've found alternately distasteful and essential in the blogs of others: the ability to keep in touch with someone without actually keeping in touch with him. As meaning to that end, therefore, I present to you: the life of Rob. Part IV. Chapter 3. On Bungalows.
When Tim Butler visited I heard that this was to no longer have been The Bungalow. That would have been a shame. Not that I have any particular affiliation with the name - in fact, the plan as it was stated was to retire the jersey and find another as soon as Jeremy, my esteemed predecessor, departed - but it does have its claims, which cannot be disposed of lightly. And so the name has stuck.
Now in The Bungalow we are three: myself, with whom I suspect you are familiar, and two others, with whom I intend to acquaint you.
I met Mike first, only a quarter into my freshman year. I don't remember what he was doing at the time, though I have my suspicions that it had something to do with schooling. He was one of the seven or so regular attenders to a little group called Reformed University Fellowship, which some guy in Testimony named David Scudder had gotten me to go to (this was after he took me to a bowling alley, where I met someone named Mickey and we had our first dance, but that's another story entirely.) Mike was quite a friendly guy, and so I talked to him a bit at RUF, which, if you are familiar with my peculiar shyness you may know, is not something I always do around people whom I have met only once or twice or thirty times. That, then, is how I got to know Mike.
Mike has been a resident of The Bungalow for a year now, maybe two. His hallmarks in the house are the motorcycle out back, exciting (read: violent) movies, and delicious, delicious meals from Trader Joe's, which I suspect are delicious by argument of the scents that waft therefrom. One of the wonderful things about The Bungalow is how well each of us its residents fit together with the others, and Mike is the one of us three who is best at being at home here, that is to say, at using the house like a home. His predecessor was the aforementioned Tim, who was here at the time with Jason, who is still here, thereby completing the circle.
I met Jason later and in more hazy circumstances than Mike's. I do believe that the first time we met it was at a party for some holiday during which I felt exceptionally uncomfortable, as I tend to at parties for some holidays. At the time I had a beautiful moment when I departed from my social torpor long enough to realize that the gentleman next to me was attempting to discuss bodhràn playing technique. A good moment, as I remember it.
Jason and I have plenty of good moments still. Aside from being a drummer, he is a model housewife and gently keeps those of us in check who may otherwise be wont to shirk our domestic duties. He initiates movements to the tune of "let's paint the living room," "today we should run speaker wire under the house," and "I think that we should leave that wall clear, for lo, I have a projector, and lo, there shall be a projection." He also subscribes to The Economist, the only putable news source in the house, and thereby plays a bit part in shaping my mind to the world.
Jason, then, is good at making the home, Mike is good at using it, and me, well, I suppose I'm best at sharing it - advertently or not (the drum set I think takes care of the inadvertent sharing.) My domestic duties in this respect, such as have shaken out, mostly consist of inviting people over, piping weird music, and usually speaking reason to the dishes afterwards.
That, then, completes The Bungalow. Such as it stands today, in any case. God knows, but I am blessed to be here.
Bonus post (woo) -- I drafted the below and saved it a while ago, but for some reason never got around to posting it. Watch your mirrors.
I was talking with Michele (on the in-ter-net!) and the subject of Ten Easy Steps To Doing Well In All Areas Of Life came up (as it so frequently does.) I thought hers pretty solid, but not having a witty blog to put them up on I thought I'd post them here as a warning to others who might consider making lists of things for me:
1. know michele
2. eat well
3. visit kacie and michele
4. have a witty blog
5. learn to make hummus
6. get hours of sleep each night
7. get rid of your facebook account
8. keep a journal
9. get vitamin D
10. read the classics.
11. Figure out the on/off functionality of your cell phone
So there you have the prescription. Get your hours of sleep and call me in the morning.
[Editor's note: I have since hung up on her and probably a couple of other people while trying to retrieve call-waiting calls. I am not doing so hot on #11, which I think might have been the initiator of this list. Can't quite remember.]
Music of the moment:
Hoo boy, lots to report! First off, I finally acquired both of the recent Waterdeep / Chaffer Family albums, and both are quite good. I'm not good at thoughtful reviewing, but suffice it to say that, given their history of excellence, there was a lot of room for disappointment; yet no disappointment ensued. [Editor's note: Okay, maybe a little. To Chase Away The Birds is a spectacularly good album.]
I've also been listening a good deal to David Bowie's album "Heroes". It's been noted already that this is a great album, and, originally interested in its instrumental, soundscapey tracks and not much impressed with the likes of Beauty and the Beast, I've been surprised by how long the album as a whole can hold my attention as I keep putting it back in week after week.
Finally, have you heard of Amy X Neuburg? No?? I hadn't either, until a few weeks ago I was listening to KFJC on my way to church and this insane, layered vocal piece came on and started talking to itself. It was so unique and intriguing that I just sat in the church parking lot listening to it through to the end, and that doesn't happen too often with me and the radio, so I figured it must be something particularly worth checking out. Turns out that I was right! Give one of her albums a spin if you can get your mitts on one; the most recent is also the most interesting to listen to, though (because?) it is somewhat less accessible than the others.
I have a whole rant about that, a rant that makes me feel superior to other people and therefore which I guiltily like to give with little or no provocation, but I won't give it here because a) Well, I won't list the reasons; the irony hangs heavy as it is. I won't rant about that because that is not the point of this post, it is merely the initiator.
So, skipping back to the end of the first sentence (see paragraph 1,) let's just insert the following and forget that little transpiration that, you know, transpired. Er, hem.
When I started this ig/noble experiment, what had tipped me over the edge from nay to yay was reading other people's blogs that were genuinely beneficial. Okay, I admit - it was only one blog, but it was enough. Being therefore convinced that if one stuck to content sure to delight and amuse, or possibly instruct, that one could at least avoid the soul-diffusing perils of punting his ego into a wallless internet, I embarked with the intention of keeping my segoul as contained as contained as possible. I would tell stories, share my thoughts, but only so far as other people might reasonably be expected to be interested in, and I would always be more eager to share about someone else than about myself.
Likely. Why do I write in this ridiculous prose?
So I've done better and I've done worse, and frequently, especially over the last couple of years, I've done even better by not doing at all, but I would like to get back a bit of my original intention if possible, and also to capture a bit of something that I've found alternately distasteful and essential in the blogs of others: the ability to keep in touch with someone without actually keeping in touch with him. As meaning to that end, therefore, I present to you: the life of Rob. Part IV. Chapter 3. On Bungalows.
When Tim Butler visited I heard that this was to no longer have been The Bungalow. That would have been a shame. Not that I have any particular affiliation with the name - in fact, the plan as it was stated was to retire the jersey and find another as soon as Jeremy, my esteemed predecessor, departed - but it does have its claims, which cannot be disposed of lightly. And so the name has stuck.
Now in The Bungalow we are three: myself, with whom I suspect you are familiar, and two others, with whom I intend to acquaint you.
I met Mike first, only a quarter into my freshman year. I don't remember what he was doing at the time, though I have my suspicions that it had something to do with schooling. He was one of the seven or so regular attenders to a little group called Reformed University Fellowship, which some guy in Testimony named David Scudder had gotten me to go to (this was after he took me to a bowling alley, where I met someone named Mickey and we had our first dance, but that's another story entirely.) Mike was quite a friendly guy, and so I talked to him a bit at RUF, which, if you are familiar with my peculiar shyness you may know, is not something I always do around people whom I have met only once or twice or thirty times. That, then, is how I got to know Mike.
Mike has been a resident of The Bungalow for a year now, maybe two. His hallmarks in the house are the motorcycle out back, exciting (read: violent) movies, and delicious, delicious meals from Trader Joe's, which I suspect are delicious by argument of the scents that waft therefrom. One of the wonderful things about The Bungalow is how well each of us its residents fit together with the others, and Mike is the one of us three who is best at being at home here, that is to say, at using the house like a home. His predecessor was the aforementioned Tim, who was here at the time with Jason, who is still here, thereby completing the circle.
I met Jason later and in more hazy circumstances than Mike's. I do believe that the first time we met it was at a party for some holiday during which I felt exceptionally uncomfortable, as I tend to at parties for some holidays. At the time I had a beautiful moment when I departed from my social torpor long enough to realize that the gentleman next to me was attempting to discuss bodhràn playing technique. A good moment, as I remember it.
Jason and I have plenty of good moments still. Aside from being a drummer, he is a model housewife and gently keeps those of us in check who may otherwise be wont to shirk our domestic duties. He initiates movements to the tune of "let's paint the living room," "today we should run speaker wire under the house," and "I think that we should leave that wall clear, for lo, I have a projector, and lo, there shall be a projection." He also subscribes to The Economist, the only putable news source in the house, and thereby plays a bit part in shaping my mind to the world.
Jason, then, is good at making the home, Mike is good at using it, and me, well, I suppose I'm best at sharing it - advertently or not (the drum set I think takes care of the inadvertent sharing.) My domestic duties in this respect, such as have shaken out, mostly consist of inviting people over, piping weird music, and usually speaking reason to the dishes afterwards.
That, then, completes The Bungalow. Such as it stands today, in any case. God knows, but I am blessed to be here.
Bonus post (woo) -- I drafted the below and saved it a while ago, but for some reason never got around to posting it. Watch your mirrors.
I was talking with Michele (on the in-ter-net!) and the subject of Ten Easy Steps To Doing Well In All Areas Of Life came up (as it so frequently does.) I thought hers pretty solid, but not having a witty blog to put them up on I thought I'd post them here as a warning to others who might consider making lists of things for me:
1. know michele
2. eat well
3. visit kacie and michele
4. have a witty blog
5. learn to make hummus
6. get hours of sleep each night
7. get rid of your facebook account
8. keep a journal
9. get vitamin D
10. read the classics.
11. Figure out the on/off functionality of your cell phone
So there you have the prescription. Get your hours of sleep and call me in the morning.
[Editor's note: I have since hung up on her and probably a couple of other people while trying to retrieve call-waiting calls. I am not doing so hot on #11, which I think might have been the initiator of this list. Can't quite remember.]
Music of the moment:
Hoo boy, lots to report! First off, I finally acquired both of the recent Waterdeep / Chaffer Family albums, and both are quite good. I'm not good at thoughtful reviewing, but suffice it to say that, given their history of excellence, there was a lot of room for disappointment; yet no disappointment ensued. [Editor's note: Okay, maybe a little. To Chase Away The Birds is a spectacularly good album.]
I've also been listening a good deal to David Bowie's album "Heroes". It's been noted already that this is a great album, and, originally interested in its instrumental, soundscapey tracks and not much impressed with the likes of Beauty and the Beast, I've been surprised by how long the album as a whole can hold my attention as I keep putting it back in week after week.
Finally, have you heard of Amy X Neuburg? No?? I hadn't either, until a few weeks ago I was listening to KFJC on my way to church and this insane, layered vocal piece came on and started talking to itself. It was so unique and intriguing that I just sat in the church parking lot listening to it through to the end, and that doesn't happen too often with me and the radio, so I figured it must be something particularly worth checking out. Turns out that I was right! Give one of her albums a spin if you can get your mitts on one; the most recent is also the most interesting to listen to, though (because?) it is somewhat less accessible than the others.
